


The Risks of Sentimentality

by Zsterwriter14



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Au- Skull's always been a part of Caracassa, BAMF! Skull, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Arcobaleno, Russian Skull, Skull's not just a cloud, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, They are like the older side of teenagers in this, They're a russian mafia family, i know english and fun bits of italian, probably bad use of russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zsterwriter14/pseuds/Zsterwriter14
Summary: Where Reborn learns that sentimentality is really a civilian thing and he should be more careful when he's looking up strangemafia families. Most people don't like when the World's Greatest Hitman looks them up in the metaphorical phone book.





	The Risks of Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that has been floatin' in my brain for a while and I need to clear space for other stuff. If the tags weren't clear, _Cause they aren't._ Skull has always been in the mafia, and always has been the combat forces commander for the Caracassa. Who operate out of Russia because i low key head cannon Skull as Russian???  
>  Also keep in mind they are both teenagers, deadly teenagers, but still not the 30-50 year olds we meet in cannon. They're going to be a little out of character because they're younger.

Renato felt a cold shock run through his system, jerking him out of the drug induced sleep state he’d been put under. He took a quick assessment of his physical state, suppressing a frown when his flames failed to respond. Either way, his hands and feet were secured to a chair, his flames probably suppressed, and he’d been stripped of his suit coat and fedora. The lack of flames and the grogginess from the drugs brought him down to a normal mafioso level but his senses were still keen enough for him to make out three separate people in the room with him. 

“Are you done Mr. Sinclair?” A young voice cut though, the sound of his own name unexpected and unwelcome. He shoved his emotions deep within himself and forced himself not to react. “We went through all that effort to track you down, do yourself a favor and wake up.” 

Renato opened his eyes, blinking to adjust them to the light. It was a familiar set up, small room with no windows and a single light, two muscled men on either side of a steel door and _purple_. 

The interrogator, usually a third muscled man with a sadistic gleam in his eyes, would be standing in front of him next to a tray full of all sorts of nasty surprises, ready to break him in two like a fortune cookie, looking for answers. 

Instead he got a slim teenager with piercing orchid eyes and violet hair long enough to be pulled into a short tail. The kid had a purple teardrop tattoo on his cheek the same color as his hair which probably meant the teen had naturally purple hair. The teen was dressed loosely in a suit that was way more expensive than how the kid wore it, an unbuttoned black jacket with a dark grey shirt, hands shoved in the pockets like it didn’t ruin the lines. The teen also wore heavy looking leather boots that thumped heavily with each step the kid took towards him. He was either someones kid or the teen was more capable than he looked. 

Reborn isn’t sure which to expect given one thing, _he didn’t know who these people were_. “I’m flattered but why bother?” He asked evenly enough, the earlier test of his bonds proved them unyielding, his hands and forearms a fixed to a metal chair. His legs were similarly bound and without his flames he was stuck. _The fear tickling the back of his throat was forced down through force of will, if he was lucky this was a misunderstanding. Drugged and bound with his flames suppressed was nobody's idea of a good time_. 

The teen raised an eyebrow, leveling an unimpressed look at Renato. “You’re right,” The began sarcastically, “ Why would we bother when someone affiliated with _Cosa Nostra_ started flashing not our Italian coat of arms, but the _**Sem’ ya’s**_.” Renato startled at the brief shift in language, unable to think past the haze in his head to identify the word as more that _Russian_. It didn’t stop the uneasy feeling from trickling down his spine, he wasn’t especially familiar with the russian _Bratva_ , _an oversight on his part_ , and he’d tripped right over then because of sentimentality. 

The teen pulls out one of the pictures Renato had given to the informant who had probably turned around and sold him out to the family it belonged to. It wasn’t the most complicated Mafia family crest he’s ever seen, an mammalian animal skull in the center with a star one the skull’s forehead and two sabers crossed behind it. The only reason he thought it was a coat of arms at all was the shield outline and the scroll detail covered in blurred writing. 

”We decided to return the favor, you looked into us, we looked into you.” The teen continued, looking a combination of amused and bored as he tucked the picture back into his coat. “ We found one of the strongest flame users alive, the World’s Strongest Hitman, and a sadistic control freak with oodles of charm despite that. You’re 18, maybe 19, born and raised in the darkest parts of Sicily as one Renato Sinclair, but you go by Reborn now. Which is moderately cool. Spent most of your time on the streets after you ran away from the orphanage...” The teen continued like he hadn’t noticed that Renato was frozen in his chair because _What._ How did they manage to dig all that up? He _knew_ the Mafia didn’t know that about him, he had made sure of that. He had gone to great lengths to bury his past. “Impressive what you can find in the italian government offices if you just ask. You can even get someone’s birth records.” 

”You found my-” Renato repeated in disbelief before cutting himself off, he didn’t even know he was in the system. He had been a street rat from Sicily, they’d gotten lucky. 

“Destroyed all of the records after we got what we wanted.” The teen said looking at his nails like Renato hadn’t spoken. “A favor for you, couldn’t make it so easy for the next guy.” 

Renato wasn’t surprised they did that, he knew logically he would have done the same thing, has done something similar in the past. They took the golden opportunity and if he got out of this alive, they had something to hold over his head. The way they said it made it sound like they’d found more than just a birth certificate that may or may not belong to him, they had something substantial. “Alright, what do you want to know?” He asked in a carefully neutral tone. 

The teen looked over him for a moment, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Why did you have this coat of arms?” The teen asked in a benign tone. Renato hesitated, he had to be careful. He had been... _Urgh... Lucky_ that they have’t resorted to more physical methods to get their information. He was under no misbelief that they weren’t capable of inflicting a lot of pain on him to get their answers, and with his flames still suppressed it wouldn’t take them as much effort either. 

“I was just looking for who it represents. It wasn’t one I’m particularly familiar with.” Reborn stated calmly with a shallow shrug, his range of motion was still severely limited. 

The teen hummed, eyes searching his face with a frown. Renato doubted the kid would find anything, but Renato tightened down on his emotions all the same. “Why? Where did you even find this in _Italiya_?” The teen questioned, a faint russian accent slipping into his otherwise neat italian. 

“Can I at least know who you are first?” Renato stalled, trying to both delay the inevitable and finally get the answers that started this mess. 

The teen considered Renato for a moment, eyes lingering on his water soaked dress shirt with a smudge of interest. “If you must know, we are what most of you mafiosi recognize as the Caracasa famiglia, we have been based in Rossiya since the second world war though we started in Italiya.” The teen said in an almost bored tone, crossing his arms over his chest. Renato stiffened, the Caracasa famiglia was one of the worst there was and now he finds out they’re _Russian_ , _Great._ “Now, we typically aren’t threatened by one man putting his nose where is doesn’t belong, but you are a different story.” 

”I’m flattered, “ Reborn said with a small smirk, glad they recognized- 

He curled in on himself, hissing out a breath as his fingernails scraped against the metal chair. The purple _brat_ who was definitely the interrogator pulled his steel soled booted foot from where he slammed it into Renato’s abdomen. “Do not interrupt me.” The teen snarled, planting his boot between Renato’s legs with a slam, his arm planted on the back of the chair. Renato barely managed to suppress his flinch. “We know exactly who you are Renato Sinclair, tell me where you found the crest and I might let you get out of here alive.” 

Renato had to take a moment to crush down his immediate smart retort. The teen was inches away from face, the orchid eyes lit up like a sunset sky. All burnished orange bleed through with the dark purple of cloud. Heavily cloud tinged sky flames burned over the teen’s skin like it didn’t take enormous effort to manifest flames without a conduit. _They were close enough that he could see that the teen was wearing very light purple lipstick._ Any plans Renato might of had evaporated in that moment as he locked eyes with the violet teen with an sunset soul. 

Renato felt a smirk pull at his face. 

”I found this particular emblem from where is appeared on my back when I was 5.” Renato said, the smirk widening when the flames extinguished as if their wielder had been doused in water. “I can’t say I was expecting it to belong to the Carcassa of all people, or that my _soulmate_ would be russian.” 

The teen’s eyes seemed stuck on his face, widened with surprise. One of the two guards called something out in russian to the teen, low and humored, causing the teen to pull back abruptly, face crimson. He snapped something back, voice cracking in his anger. It was a bit too quick for Renato’s still slightly drug addled mind to follow but he saw a set of keys exchange hands. 

“Of all people... “ The teen muttered to himself, turning to look back at Renato with a distinctly perturbed expression. He bent towards the metal cuffs restraining Renato muttering what he was fairly certain was curses. 

”You are aware that most people introduce themselves to their soulmates.” Reborn said after a moment, the teen busying himself with Reborn’s arm restraints. At prompt the teen paused before he sighed. 

”Most people don’t share a soul with a womanizer.” The teen muttered as he freed both of Renato's arms with a click. Renato didn’t move quite yet, instead opting to watch his soulmate. The teen pulled back looking at Renato with the kind of resignation he saw in someone sentenced to death. _Which, Rude. Reborn was a gentleman._ “My name is Cherep Tusha, the Caracassa’s Combat forces Commander and the second heir to the Sem’ya,” The teen said, taking a moment to unbutton the top few of his dress shirt. Renato watched as the teen pulled it back to reveal the skin over his heart. 

There in the same golden yellow of Renato’s flames was eight arrows point outwards from the same starting point, the symbol for chaos. Renato felt something darkly satisfied curl in his chest to see something that he embodied on the teen’s pale skin. “The mark on your back is my personal coat of arms.” 

Renato thought to the orange and purple gradient that took up a large portion of his back and looked at the slender looking russian who wore steel soled boots with an expensive suit. He allowed himself to rub the soreness of his arms away with smirk, “ I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

The resigned look came back to the teen’s eyes. “Oh joy.” _Rude!_

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me if I shift tense. Im writing an original story in present tense and it's leaking into this story. (and other edits, English is _Hard_ and the only language I'm fluent in.)


End file.
